


REVENGE: One Shot Smut AKA What!?

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: All smut all the time, F/M, Gen, Gratuitous Smut, One shot smut shot, Word Porn, dirty dirty dirty, everybody gets off, everybody goes down, masquerades and blowjobs, where else can I put it, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: SMUT. One shot smut. Total revenge porking. Dirty and good. Aha. One chapter or multiple?! Depends on who likes it! I have lots of unused smut cluttering my folders!





	REVENGE: One Shot Smut AKA What!?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a one shot smut. I wrote it and had it down as a chapter to a previous story. It felt SO WRONG there. But it's GREAT SMUT. Totally sexy. And dirty. And awesome. So I kept it. And it has no place because I won't make a story out of these two. Probably ever. If you care, a little, about the plot it's revenge sex. In this version, Rebecca is seeking revenge. The rest of the plot is unnecessary. It's good smut. Not to be wasted. Leon gets some good smut. Everyone wins!  
> The chapter murdered my other story with it. But as a one shot revenge sex tale? Gold. Why not?

Vito De Mare, Italy 2017

The trail to Maria Gomez led them across the ocean. The trip was surprisingly easy and made on a private jet. The Italian province of Vito De Mare was little more than a tiny island floating off the tip of the boot of the country. It was a haven for the wealthy, the bored, and the overtly depraved.

What Vito De Mare was primarily known for was its night life. Swingers frequented the island, sharing in their sexual delights with others of the bored and idle nature. Sex games were the theme of things in most fronts, offering moonlight masquerades and anonymous delights to those who sought to fill their souls with such sins of the flesh.

The blending in was going to require a fair amount of footwork and…handiwork. Leon slipped on the expensive Dolce and Gabbana suit in commanding black, double breasted, silk, with peak lapels and a vest beneath, that accompanied his costume with little concern for it. The intricate venetian metal mask he slid onto his face made the whole look, which might have been Vogue and very high fashion, a sensual edge that promised the viewer a different kind of delight beneath the expensive packaging.

He was lean, handsome, charismatic and charming – he'd blend right in. Beneath the suit, he wore an inner pants holster that placed his pistol at the small of his back. Charming or not, he was never unarmed.

Joel, Rebecca, and their two newest accompaniments: Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield, all were gathered in the living room of the three thousand dollar a night suite being used as HQ for this operation. Jill was dressed in black as well. The dress was so low cut that it left little to the imagination…and everything to it. It was a dress the promised something dark and delicious to any who wanted to try to touch and see if they got lucky, or lost a hand trying. Her blonde hair was artfully styled in piles of twists and curls around her face. She wore a little mask herself, this one lacy and red, hiding but not really hiding, the delicate features of her face.

Chris chuckled when he saw them stand next to each other. "You two look like the top of a Fifty Shades of Grey wedding cake."

Jill snickered, "You're just jealous because you have to wait here while we get to go play."

"Maybe." Chris snorted again, "Probably. But I'm shit in the playacting department. I'd ruin it."

Leon rolled his eyes as they moved over to get outfitted with communicators. Joel tucked a tiny piece in Leon's ear and put the battery pack, the shape of a cigarette lighter, into his breast pocket. He clipped a little camera in the form of a diamond tie tack to the front knot of his silky white tie.

He literally stuck his hand in the front of Jill's dress.

She raised her brows, shocked. But Chris snickered. Joel cared as much about boobs as the Pope did about sex. He fitted the device to her and added the one in her ear. "There! Voila!"

Leon shifted, glancing out into the narrow cobbled streets. The masquerade took place over the entire city. There was no "one spot". "How's the range?"

"Twenty miles give or take." Joel moved to his computer and started typing. "Wherever you go, we can hear you."

"Got it."

The bathroom door opened and Rebecca stepped out, drying her hands on a towel. She paused, blinked, blinked, and stared. Jill smiled sweetly, "I look that good?"

Rebecca laughed, grinning, "You do indeed. I'm jealous."

Jill winked at her as she passed. "Rebecca, you endless flirt, I already like you. You don't have to butter me up."

Rebecca shifted as Jill and Chris headed out into the hallway. She watched the man who moved toward her. She wondered if she would ever get tired of watching him move. The outfit…it made the man. That was for damn sure.

"This look suits you."

"Oh yeah?" He smiled down at her. She ran her hand over his lapel.

"Oh yeah it does. Try not to do too much playing around out there."

He looped his arm around her to drag her against him. Her nose bumped the cold metal mask as he ducked his head. "Jealous?"

She met his looked squarely, "You're fucking right I am. I'd be an idiot not to be."

Leon laughed, delighted, and kissed her. Her cheeks were pink from rushing blood when he pulled back. "Don't be. I'm acting out there. And then I'm coming back here to you."

Rebecca traced his mouth with her fingers. "Sounds good to me."

He nipped her fingers, sending bolts of want right into her groin. "When I get back, you'll be the one coming."

"Oh dear god, promise?"

"Promise." He dropped a kiss to her shoulder and let her go. She shivered, deliciously.

Out on the street, the masquerade swirled up and surrounded them. She watched him until he disappeared into the crowd. Chris stepped up next to her, grinning.

"What do you say, Chambers?"

She looked up at his grinning face, "Can I keep him?"

Chris laughed.

He danced, he schmoozed. He kept a drink in his hand like any good James Bond. He flirted and tempted and danced the edge of playing the game too well. He listened, he learned, he stored information and filed it away in the right places. He kissed a few necks and played a few games when the mood called for it, getting a little more information with a little more teasing.

A tall figure in red came out of the smoke of the crowd and not even the mask couldn't hide who it was. He watched her move, cat like and wicked. She took his hand, wordlessly, and guided him toward a building.

He said nothing even as she tugged him inside. The internal part of the building was beautiful. Everything was hand carved and brilliantly maintained. It was marble and white and shiny, it was elegant even as it was clearly lavishly designed. They were looking down from a balcony into an inner sanctum, that much was clear. Inside the circle, on a mural of angels and demons in the throws sexual release, an orgy had begun.

Bodies and limbs, hands and lips, the sounds of want and wanton greed filled the air. Sweaty and succulent flesh melded and slipped together, offering the viewer a beautiful and decadent buffet of sexual delight. It was hard to tell where one body ended and another began.

She slipped up beside him and her hand slid open the zipper of his pants. He opened his mouth to protest and realized they were being watched, eyes, eyes, eyes everywhere. Her finger brushed against his lips, silencing him. She had him, just like that, in her game with him. Those red, red, red nails slipped into the open cavity of his pants and found him, stroking.

He curled his hands around the railing, staring hard at the bounty of sexual feasting that was occurring below them. He was spitted, trapped, held in place by his own lack of escape. He couldn't pull away, couldn't make a scene. He was, after all, here to play the game. The game. The game was this, sex and want and forbidden pleasure.

So long as no one spoke, no one on the head set could possibly know what was happening. She had to know that, had to. Because she worked his body like a whore even while her face showed nothing, offered nothing, but a tiny sly smile.

Game or not, he was a man. And that hand knew how to bring him pleasure. He dug his nails so hard into the railing, he was surprised it didn't crack and break beneath the force of it. The bitch in red. What was her end game here?

She slid her entire body behind him now, pressed against his back like a cat in heat, her hot, haunting little hands continued to stroke him. He ground his teeth, feeling the burgeoning betrayal of his erection offering her anything she wanted. His breath became labored, a little desperate.

His head dropped back with it and she turned her face and licked his earlobe, drew the delicate flesh between her teeth and nibbled. Her free hand slid up his chest over the expensive suit and pulled him tighter back against her. She pressed herself against his ass, rubbing against him.

As a secondary thing, trapped on the talons of his own torture, he knew people were talking close by. He knew they were saying important things that the other end of the communicator in his ear was hearing. This is why she'd brought him here, for intel, yes…and this. Because he'd run from her once, this was her revenge. He couldn't run now, not without alerting people to his purpose, not without alerting his team to what she was doing. The clever bitch: she had him right where she wanted him.

The sounds of sex and slapping skin floated up to them. Someone in the orgy was moaning, someone was gasping, someone was coming – fiercely by the sound of their screaming. His body hurt, physically hurt, from holding back his own release.

But he'd be damned if he'd give that to her too.

Someone close by was talking now about Gomez. It was all in Italian but he was fluent in a multitude of languages. He heard the name, it registered, it clicked, and he started to turn to hear more. She spun him around and he bumped against the railing on the balcony. He started to speak and she shook her head, gesturing.

The conversation was less than three feet away. Any distraction could ruin it. She smirked, slyly, and dropped to her knees in front of him. He shook his head, fiercely, angrily. She shrugged, slid her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and lowered them. He shook his head at her again, almost pleading now, and she smiled sweetly and put her mouth around him.

He curled his hands around the steel rods of the balcony, undone. He knew, she knew, it was like rape in a way. He could say no, he could stop it. He could stop her any time he wanted. But at what cost? This might be the only chance they had to get intel on Gomez. That was what he was here for, the mission.

She slid her mouth over him, wet and deep. He watched her red lips disappear over his pulsing shaft in a slow, torturous, breath stealing plunge. He panicked, feeling the rise of the orgasm fluttering at the edges of his rejection of her. He shifted his hands to her hair to pull her off of him and Joel's voice came over the communicator, "That's great! Wherever you are, Leon, stay right there. They are talking about where she's hiding. In a few minutes, we'll know exactly where she is!"

The hands that he been set to pull her off by the hair now settled into it, trapped. He was cupping her head without realizing it. She pulled off him with a wet pop of her mouth on his sticky dick and licked, licked, licked the dewy tip of him. He made some sound of desperate helplessness.

"Everything going good there, Leon? You're ok?"

She licked the length of his shaft and brought his voice out in a defeated whisper, "I'm good here. I'm good."

"Awesome! Just hang tight for a few more minutes and you'll be good to go."

Her mouth slid back over him. He grunted, defeated, and tightened his fingers in her hair. His head fell back again, his chest tightened. The wet sounds of her suckling him mingled with those from down below in the gallery. He panicked again, almost desperately, as the torture was simply too much. He tried to pull her off but she suctioned to him like a vampire trying to drain his will to live.

He shook his head in denial and his body did the rest. He pushed her face down on him, once, hard, and it ripped the orgasm out of him in a burst of shame and seed. His gasping curse was lost to the sounds of sexual gratification below them. He shuddered, biceps bunching, hands clenching in all that black hair.

She rose, wiping her thumb along her lower lips as she did. She leaned into him, sliding his briefs up his body, fastening his pants. The look on his face was murderous. The rage beat like angry butterfly wings between them. She smiled, slow and sly. She pressed her mouth to his and winked.

"Leon!" The voice in his ear was excited, "Hey! Something screwed the last few minutes of recording. I didn't get the address. Are they still talking?"

They weren't. They'd moved away and were lost in the crowd.

"No. They aren't. What do you mean something interfered?"

"The transmission went static. I didn't get the address."

Ada lifted a tiny lipstick with a blinking tip. A homemade jammer, she'd interrupted the signal. The rage increased ten fold. She'd just double fucked him in a single move. She stepped back from him, smiling sweetly.

Strapped to her inner thigh, in that red dress slit so high up it might as well have been a rag, a tape recorder proved his worst fear: she had the intel. And all he had was a sticky dick. He took a step toward her and she spun away. She lifted a finger and pointed.

He turned and saw what she was gesturing at, the staircase. When he turned back, she was gone. He clenched his fist in muted rage.

"I may know how to get the intel. I should go coms silent though. I have a lot of eyes on me here. I don't know how safe transmissions are."

"Roger." Joel's voice echoed back, "Radio silence for how long?"

He watched Ada disappear up the stairs, "Twenty minutes. I don't think it should take me longer than that. Get Chris ready once we had an address. Where's Rebecca?"

"She's here, working on a potential tranquilizer for Gomez."

He knew where this could lead. Only a fool couldn't see it. He hesitated and said, "Put her on for me real quick, Joel."

Her voice came over the ear piece, "Leon? Everything ok?"

He wasted no time with semantics. "It's Ada. She's here. She has the intel we need. She's playing games with me. She wants something. I'm afraid if I don't play, she's going to expose me and possibly Jill. But I made you a promise, a big one. So you tell me what to do."

Rebecca was so quiet. His heart hurt.

"Do what you need to do. Get the intel and let's finish this."

"And then?"

"And then you come back here and live up to your promise. And then we go home."

"We?"

"Yeah. We."

He drew a deep, deep, breath and let it loose. "Ok. Deal. Coms off."

"No.." Her voice was smooth and forceful, "I want to listen. Maybe…maybe then I'll understand it."

The thought of it, dirty and amazing, it speared into his groin. He took a staggered breath, "Rebecca..are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. I know what you do to me…now show me what I do to you. What's it worth to get rid of her? Only you can answer that. Will you do whatever it takes to be free of her?"

He pressed his finger to the com in his ear as if, by pressing, he could touch her too. And he gave her that word, that word that meant everything and nothing between them.

"Yes."

He hurried toward the stairs. He left the coms on. He passed by faces in masks, smiling and sensual. A woman in a shimmering purple dress tried to waylay him by pressing herself against him.

Forced to play the game and maintain cover, he pressed her back against the wall of the stairs and kissed on her neck for a few moments. It was called "sampling" it was what one did in these type of parties. You sampled to decide if you were interested in tasting.

He stepped back from her when the polite amount of time had passed and sort of pushed her into another man as discreetly as possible. They didn't seem to mind and turned happily to each other. He hurried up the stairs to the top floor. He saw her red dress disappear into a room at the end of the hallway.

Leon slipped into the room after her. He started to say something and realized she wasn't alone. Two men were sampling her. She stood between them, watching him.

One used his mouth to play at her breasts where they were so perfectly framed by the V of her shimmering dress. The other was licking at her spine in the open back of it. He moved forward, done with the game, ready to chuck the other man out on their asses and shake the answers out of her.

She shook her head and hooked her hand around his tie, wrapping it around her fist to bring him toward her. The other two men stepped back, watching. Damn these people, he cursed internally, always happy to watch a show. Her face taunted him, daring him to make a scene.

He slipped his hand up her thigh and the recorder was gone.

Surprised, he met her eyes. She smiled, coyly.

He eyed the other men, debating on blowing the whole thing to get answers. He didn't want to endanger Jill wherever she was in the party. He couldn't bring himself to risk it. Instead, he asked quietly, "What do you want?"

Ada pulled him to her by his tie, and put her mouth to his to answer him, "Satisfaction. Give me that, I give you what you need. Fair trade."

He met her eyes, held them, "It won't be enough, Ada. Whatever this is, it will never be enough. When we're done here, it's done forever."

There was a gasp in his ear from the woman on the other end. But he meant it. Whatever it took, he had to be done. It was time to stop hiding in the darkness.

Ada jerked his tie, bringing a sound from his throat. "You'll regret it."

"No," He shook his head, "I'll regret it if I don't."

She smiled at him now and licked his mouth, "Then I better make this count. Play the game, get what you want. And I'll let you go."

"Swear it."

"I swear." She licked his mouth again, "Open your mouth."

In his ear, that soft voice whispered, "Turn on the camera. Let me see."

He froze, feeling the thunder of that instruction in his blood.

She must have felt his hesitance, as her voice came again, "I have to see it. I have to know. This is how we close the door, Leon. You wanted me to understand it. To do that, I have to see it."

He lifted his hand and tapped the knot of his tie. He wasn't sure what was about to happen but whatever it was, it was going to change everything.

Leon opened his mouth. He had no choice. Not really. He needed that intel, he needed free of her. He needed to try to start over, start fresh, and get out of the darkness that she brought with her. He couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do to be free of that.

He opened his mouth.

Her tongue slipped inside, her hand slid up his face to angle him to her. "Kiss me back."

He hesitated for a moment, glanced at the two men watching, and he kissed her back. She made a sound of need, curled her tongue with his and tried to devour the soul that was beyond it. Where would he draw the line, he wondered, even as desperately wanted to break free of her, where would he draw the line?

Would he fuck her to be free?

He'd told Rebecca he wouldn't hurt her again. He'd meant it.

She lifted his hand and slipped it into the open front of her dress. Her breast was smooth, warm, and the nipple hard and begging beneath his palm. Where would he draw the line?

She slid away from him and moved toward the bed in the center of the room. It was draped in black, canopied, and surrounded by gauzy curtains. She lay back upon it and crooked her finger at him.

At the other end of the camera, watching on the computer before her, Rebecca felt something catch at the back of her throat. She was beautiful, breathtaking. She was sin and sex and wanton desire. She was his darkness. And his darkness was perfect.

Where did she think she could really fit in all that darkness? Did she have any hope of keeping him, really keeping him, when this is what tempted him?

She opened her mouth to tell him to stop. To just stop. She couldn't watch this. She wasn't strong enough. She would break it. It would break her.

A hand settled on her shoulder and gripped. She glanced up. Chris stood there, looking down at her. There was some kind of soft strength on his face. "It's a mission, Rebecca. You know that. But if you tell him, he'll stop. He'll come back. You have to decide what you're willing to risk to find the answers."

She lifted her hand and gripped his, squeezing. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah," Chris glanced at the screen and the woman there, watching the man Rebecca loved with eager, haunting eyes, "She's beautiful. And deadly. You have to decide how much you trust him. And how much you want to know what she knows."

"I want to kill her."

Chris met her eyes, held them, "So did I once…You may get your chance. But you have to decide, right in this moment, what you want from him. You're running out of time."

She whispered, into the microphone now so he could hear her, "Get the intel, Leon."

Leon clenched his fist and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

He'd promised he wouldn't fuck her. He was going to make sure he kept that promise.

But what if the price was one more night? What if it was once more, just once, and she'd be gone from him forever? Would he betray Rebecca, just once more, to be free of the bitch in red forever?

Leon moved toward the bed. He parted the curtains and crawled across the satin bedspread.

Satisfaction, she'd said. She hadn't said sex. She'd said satisfaction.

He gestured with his head. The other men seemed to know what he wanted. Some kind of unspoken guy code. They emerged, eager.

"Hold her down."

Ada's eyes flashed surprise.

Each man took one of her delicate arms, stretching it above her head. Leon slid his hands up her body, parting the front of the dress until her perfect breasts were exposed. The little pink nipples pouted, begging for attention.

He felt the shift in his groin, felt the erection that pushed there at the sight of her. Promise or not, he was a man. And she was, would always be, the dark that tempted him. His dick wanted her, and he could at least let it see her this one last time.

He put his hands on her, shaping her breasts, rolling them. His thumbs swept her nipples, his fingers tweaked them, plucked them. She gasped, shivering, the men above her made sounds of pleasure and brushed themselves against her outstretched hands.

Leon ducked his head and laved one nipple with his tongue, tasting her. His groin was so heavy with need it was painful. Good, good, the pain was good. It kept him in his head. It made him remember what he'd told Rebecca when he left. He was an actor, it was a game. And it meant…nothing.

He looked at her face beneath him, so beautiful, so perfect. Nothing. It would never be nothing. But it didn't have to be everything either. And he was going to make damn sure she didn't win this time. Not again.

He shifted down her body and nodded. The men holding her arms each used their free hands to start playing with those breasts. She made a sound of surprise and delight. The scent of her excitement grew.

Leon slid his hands up the outside of her thighs and hooked his fingers around her panties, dragging them down those long, long legs. Caught up in his own game for a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed, remembering to stay in character. He lay on his stomach and settled himself between her thighs, cupping the outside of her legs in his hands to open her to him.

The first taste of her nearly undid him. She was succulent, soft, somehow sweet and delicious. He closed his eyes against it and slid his tongue over her, over her. Ada murmured, gasping. He gathered his resolve and feasted on her.

She bowed, bucking against his face. It was deep and hungry now, his tongue delved and delighted in her mounting need for him. He spread her with his fingers and worshipped at her body, flicking a finger over her as his tongue thrust in and out of her delicious center. She tasted like sex and sin and something addictive.

He slid his fingers into her to push her closer to the edge as his tongue offered her no mercy. He jerked her hips against his face, forcing himself into her and forcing her to take each lick and stroke and relentless fuck of finger and tongue. His dick throbbed, pulsing with the need to plunge into her body and spill. It promised him wonderful things if he just gave in, gave up, and hammered her into the bed.

It lied.

And it wasted its time.

He'd been ignoring his dick for years before Rebecca had come along and awakened him. It was nice to know he still could if he really wanted to. He gave his dick a little attention and rubbed his groin against the mattress just to take the edge off.

She gasped above him, panting, "Please!"

He rolled to the side and gathered his resolve. He wouldn't, couldn't, fuck her. He wouldn't. But he'd give her what she asked for.

He gestured with his head and one of the men shifted. The other released her arm as well. Leon jerked her up and slid under her. Satisfaction, she'd said. He'd give her that. On all fours, she looked down at him. The greed on her face nearly robbed his will power and left him empty.

He shook his head and one of the man moved in behind her. She must have known what was about to happen because she said, "Wait…this wasn't the deal."

"You said satisfaction. Play the game, Ada. You'll get satisfaction."

Something on her face shifted, held. "Fair enough." Her hands jerked at his zipper and pulled him hard and thick and desperate from his pants once more. "I'll play. But you'll play too."

He made some sound of denial mixed with a shuddering breath. Was this the price? It would seem it was.

The man behind her grabbed her hips and yanked her back on his willing dick. She gasped, grunted with the force of it, and did the same to Leon. Her mouth sank completely over him, balls deep into the waiting wonder of her mouth. He cursed, loudly and lewdly, his fingers tunneled and twisted in her hair.

The man behind her was fucking her now, hard and deep. The wet slaps of his body filled the room around them. Her mouth delved and dropped, sucking and fucking like she was born to do it. He stared up at the canopy above the bed, impaled on the horns of his own game. Ada drove her mouth down on his mercilessly, fast and desperate.

He grunted, gasped, and let her.

He didn't fuck her.

He didn't.

But he let her mouth fuck him.

His hands threw out to the sides and twisted in the bedspread, grabbing handfuls as the waves and spears of pleasure washed and stabbed through him. His blood rushed into his groin, turning it into a heavy, helpless, throbbing thing. He arched against her mouth, crying out as she drug him, dying, up the cliff of pleasure with her and made sure he scraped every jagged, wonderful ledge along the way.

On the other end of the camera, sitting on the bed in the hotel room with the little laptop in front of her, Rebecca felt her heart break. It was so painful. Awful and terrible and real. She'd taken the little laptop into the bedroom to be alone. She'd all but told him to do it. Hadn't she? Get the intel, she'd said. Had she meant this? Was this the price she paid for letting him go?

The door opened and Chris entered, watching her.

She picked up the laptop and set it on the desk, showing him what was happening. He watched for a long moment, listening as well to the clear and very erotic sounds of sex and pleasure. The camera, clearly on Kennedy's tie, was aimed up at the canopy of the bed. But it took no imagination what so ever to hear what was being done to his body by the very delectable Ada Wong.

Chris closed the door quietly behind him and leaned against it.

On the laptop screen, Kennedy made some sound of reluctant pleasure.

Rebecca took a deep breath, steeling herself. She'd said do whatever it took. She listened to him getting his dick sucked by the bitch in red and her belly felt like someone had kicked her in it, over and over. She glanced over at Chris leaning against the door. He had one knee bent, one foot braced there against the wood. His head was slightly down, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, watching her with hooded eyes.

The room was dark, the moonlight filtered in from behind the expensive curtains against the far wall. She felt the betrayal gnaw at her bones, in her blood. She moved without knowing what she was doing. She turned to the man on the other side of the room. The hurt on her face was stark and painful for him to see.

She wanted to hurt Leon Kennedy. And she knew how to hurt him. And she knew it was vindictive and cruel. But she wanted to feel anything besides the anger, the hurt, the utter punishing jealousy that raged and fired through her blood since the moment she'd known he'd fucked her that first time. She couldn't get the image of Leon and Ada Wong fucking like jack rabbits out of her head. And now this…this…her mouth on him, swallowing him, sucking and pleasuring them both.

She needed to do something, anything to get rid of the image of it.

On the laptop screen, the view shifted as he clearly leaned back on his elbows to watch the woman sucking his dick. Both she and Chris heard his voice ground out a curse word. The wet suckling sounds filled the room around them. Rebecca could see Ada Wong's lips going down over his body, again and again.

Chris said, quietly, and there was such raw anger in his voice, "I'm sorry. I can't even imagine what this feels like."

Rebecca shook her head, felt the fire of it in her blood, "It feels like a kick to the groin."

Chris smiled a little, "Well then maybe I can imagine what that feels like after all."

He watched her stand there, shaking. "Turn it off, Rebecca."

"I can't." And she sounded so broken.

His voice was more commanding now, the voice of the man who'd led troops into battle. It was the voice of the man who'd, more than once, watched men die and been unable to stop it. "Turn away from it, now."

She shook her head, once, twice. She turned away from the laptop and faced the man before her. She let the feel of the girl she'd been roll through her, smooth and sharp. She had forgotten, somewhere along the way, that she was no ones toy. She wasn't something that could be played with a discarded. She had told him to get the intel but this…this was so much worse. This was twenty years of him chasing the wrong woman.

Rebecca lifted her head and looked across the moonlit room. Somewhere close by, the man she loved was in the arms of another woman. He was inside of her, surrounded by her. He was in the moment with her and lost. The moonlight fell across the figure leaning against the door…and the girl in the woman betrayed, remembered a time she was so much more than that.

There's a moment when the heart and the mind merge, making way for something they may have each been missing all along. She'd spent so long looking at Leon Kennedy, she'd missed the most obvious thing: he hadn't always been what she'd wanted.

And he wasn't the first hero to have found a little place in her heart.

And he wasn't the only man in the world that could make her feel, what had he said to her? Oh yeah…ALIVE.

She moved through the moonlight toward him. She looked up into his face, seeing the boy she'd knew in the man before her. Age had been kind to Chris Redfield; he had grown more handsome, bigger, stronger, and retained that kindness, that compassion, and that unfaltering sense of humor. The boy had been a handsome devil, charming and full of mischief. The man was a different kind of devil indeed. He was the kind you made a deal with, traded your soul to, just to have a taste.

On the helicopter, sitting beside Leon Kennedy, she'd had the thought that Chris Redfield wasn't for her. But tonight, just now, standing so close to him, wanting so desperately to feel something in her blood but pain and torture…she thought maybe, just now, he was for her. And she was for him.

"Tell me he's a fool." Her voice was so quiet, so soft.

He watched her, carefully, judging her mood. She looked so pale, so lost. He did what he always did, Chris Redfield told her the truth, "He's a fucking fool."

Rebecca grabbed him by the vest, surprising them both. She looked up at him and there a thousand feelings reflected in her blue eyes. "Were you a fool too? I loved you once…a long time ago. You never looked at me. I keep finding myself surrounded by men who are fools."

He looked at her face in the moonlight. Somewhere fireworks were going off now, throwing rotating shades of color over her milky skin. She'd always been cute, adorable, and she was right…he'd never saw her, not really. He'd never looked at her as anything other than the little girl he'd rescued in the Spencer Estate all those years ago. I loved you, she'd said. In all of his life, he didn't think any other woman had ever said that to him. The truth of it humbled him.

"I'm a fuckin fool too."

Surprised, she met his eyes. "You never saw me. I need you to see me now. I need you to look at me. Because I can't keep looking at him and know that he's seeing her. He's feeling her. I need to forget that he will never look at me like that. And I can't keep chasing men who don't see me."

Chris spoke, quietly, "I see you. But I'm not what you want. I can't erase him from you."

"You told me once you'd have ruined me for all other men. I don't need that. I just need you to ruin me for him." The suckling sounds on the laptop were now punctuated by Leon's gasps. Chris watched the screen for a moment, seeing the bitch in red trying to suck his soul out through his dick.

He turned his face down to her and the hurt there was so desperate and raw.

In that moment, he hated Leon Kennedy for her. He hated him for the pain he caused without even trying. He hated him because the only way he could think to get rid of his demon was to let her suck him dry while the woman who loved him watched and died inside.

They were both fools. But he could do something, right there in that moment, to help heal the hurt he might have left on the girl he'd never really seen. He was rarely a fool twice.

He dropped his assault rifle on the floor. She jumped a little at the sound. "Say what you mean here, Rebecca. I don't want any confusion between us."

She lifted her eyes to his face. "I want to feel what the girl felt for that boy all those years ago. I want to remember. And I want to forget."

Chris held her gaze, long, hard, "Be sure. One hundred percent. We can't take it back once it's done, Rebecca. He may never forgive you. I can give you this, I can give you me but it may cost you him. Be sure."

Her mind flashed to all the moments she'd had with Leon. It flashed to her promises to him: only sex, always faith, always love. Those things…they were true. She'd been sure of them then. She knew, he knew, they both knew that you couldn't burn love away in a single night. She didn't want to burn the love away…but she wanted to forget it, forget him, for just a little while.

She studied the man in front of her. He had a five o'clock shadow, pretty much all the time. There was something Hungarian or dark in his gene pool. It was mixed with the irish blood so strongly seen in his sister. He wasn't classically handsome like Leon Kennedy. He didn't have the model good looks that graced the pages of high fashion magazines. But he was gorgeous – the perfect combination of rugged sex and sheer power. He was the hero, the legend, the boy who'd become the man who understood her in ways that the man who held her heart never could.

Her heart started pounding, fast and hard. Be sure. There was no taking it back. If she did this, if she touched Chris Redfield…there was no taking it back. Be sure, he said. Was she sure?

On the laptop, Ada Wong laughed darkly and seductively. She slid up the body of the man Rebecca loved and kissed him. The camera shivered on his tie as he kissed her back.

Oh yeah. She was sure. She was so sure it was painful.

Her eyes flickered, bright and hot. She looked at the man in front of her and let the sight of him shift into her belly and tingle there, "I've never been surer of anything else in my life. I need you to see me."

Chris picked her up under the armpits, holding her off the floor in front of him. "I see you. If I'd have seen you then, you wouldn't be looking at him now."

"Make me forget him."

He set her down on the floor, jerked her hair back and looked down into her face. Whatever he was looking for, it must have been there in her eyes. He said, quietly, "Done."

Rebecca knew what she was risking here. She'd told Leon to do it. She'd said do it. But watching it, hearing it, seeing it. It was killing her. She hated him and hated Ada Wong and hated herself for loving him so much.

The man holding her skimmed his thumb over the delicate under side of her jaw, stroking the fine skin there, tempting her. "Tell me what you want."

He was asking her if she wanted it sweet, if she wanted it hard. He was asking her so he could give it to her, give her exactly what she wanted; what she needed. The offer…the offer of it meant more than anything else he'd ever done for her.

And just then, just in that single statement, just in the unfaltering blue of his eyes…he'd given her back some piece of herself that had been so raw and throbbing. There were no games here. Unless she wanted to play them.

She'd always wondered what he'd feel like. She'd always wondered what he'd touch her like. She'd always wondered how he'd smell and move and fuck. He was letting her pick the way they touched each other here, this first time. This only time? She wondered how one sample temptation just once and never again.

But he was promising her the ability to do just that if she wanted.

He was offering her the power to choose. To choose the how, choose the who, and choose the path she wanted to take. She lifted her hand and gripped his wrist where it held her face. Something in her yearned for him. Where were you a year ago? She wondered inside of her. When I was new? When I was still something that could have loved you and made us both so happy?

Tonight he offered her the power to turn back the clock and forget.

So she did what felt good. She did what felt powerful.

She lifted her hands and grabbed the zipper on Chris Redfield's vest. She jerked it down, and felt the grief inside of her spill into something else. Something wet and warm and human. He pushed away from the door and the vest fell with a clunk of Kevlar and metal plating to the floor.

His heart hammered, hard and fast in his chest. The blood flooded to his groin, thrilling him at the prospect of it. The excitement filled him for her. So this was how she wanted it; hard, fast, furious. She'd meant what she said, she wanted to forget. He knew how to make someone forget. He'd make them both forget.

The tight under armor shirt beneath his vest left everything and nothing to the imagination. She wanted what was under it. She wanted what was under his clothes, under his skin, under his soul. Her fingers gripped it and pulled, peeling it off of him. She was too short for the right angle so he had to duck a little so she could get it off of him. It lodged on his upper arms, binding him there for a moment. She rolled her face against his exposed chest like a cat, scent marking.

The throbbing in his dick for her now was murderous and wonderful and perfect.

There was so much of him, muscle, flesh, and the seductive pulse of the heart beyond it all. The soft spread of hair over his pecs ended in a happy trail down to the waist band of his pants. He was probably going to be the most delicious mistake she'd ever made.

Love was one thing. But this…this was just what she needed. He was just what she needed. For twenty years, Leon had chased around after Ada, a pathetic puppy. For twenty years, Rebecca had wondered what was under Chris Redfield's clothes. The girl had been curious about the boy who'd saved her that night in the mansion, curious if he kissed as good as he looked. When he'd shown up in her office all those years later and saved her again, the woman had been curious if he tasted as good as looked. She was betting the boy would have been nothing compared to the man.

Tonight she was about to find out what twenty years of waiting looked like.

She skimmed her fingers over each delineated muscle in his stomach, feeling the ridges and valleys that made up his upper body. She traced his pecs, playing along the suggestion of baby fine hair above his nipples. He was too muscular for too much chest hair but there was enough to pull at things low in a girl's belly. She put her mouth to one nipple, drawing it into her mouth to tempt herself. He made a little sound of pleasure in his throat at the nearly delicate touch of her.

She put her mouth harder over the meat of him and bit down, so, so gently. She drew the feel of him into her, suckling on his flesh. And she had her answer; he tasted as good as he looked.

Her hands couldn't even close over his biceps to grab him. He was just that big. She shivered in delight at it. Was there a woman a live that didn't go weak at the sight of all that muscle?

He was very still as her hands jerked at his belt and it whipped free from the loops with a scream of leather. He grabbed her chin and turned her face up to him, his eyes scanned her features, searching. He balled a hand into the front of her shirt and jerked her up toward him, his other arm caught her around the waist and lifted her against his front, stealing the breath from her lungs with the strength of it. His thumb settled into the softness of the underside of her chin and forced her face up to his.

She'd always kinda known he'd be that kind of lover. Fast, rough, nearly impossibly greedy. He kissed her like he'd climb inside of her mouth, bury himself inside of her, and burst out of her body on endless waves of pleasure. She made some sound of surprise, of delight. Revenge had a powerful edge; it ripped the thought of anything else but the taste of him from her throat.

Sex was a powerful curative. It was catharsis in the form of skin and sin and sweat.

He walked with her clutched to him, driving his tongue into her mouth with a nearly perfect tempo of thrust and suck. He was brilliant at it. He was a master kisser. There was no awkwardness here. He was no virgin. The kiss said it all. This guy…this guy knew how to fuck her and leave her twitching and begging for more.

It scared her a little. He could do whatever he wanted to her and she couldn't stop him. He was over twice her size. He could force her down and fuck her while she screamed and begged for him to stop. He could fuck her to death and she would be able to do nothing but take it. The thought of it frightened and enthralled her, a potent aphrodisiac. Because she'd opened the door to her past, to the pain and pleasure that would come side by side with what was about to happen. And it came in a very big, very powerful package. The fear had a salacious, addictive, and dangerous edge. It spiraled out of her mouth in a moan.

Chris pushed her against the wall, angled her head, and made her mouth his. He was relentless, commanding, pushing hers into the right pace with his, rewarding it with just the right pressure, just the right thrust and combination of give and take. He pinned her against the wall and ripped away any shred of second thoughts that might have even attempted to poke their ugly heads up and stop what was happening.

When he let her come up for air, she was gasping, breathless. Her skin was flushed, pink and sweaty. He grabbed her chin, held it. His gloved hand was scratchy on her delicate skin. "Last chance to change your mind."

She had given him food for thought that day on the helicopter. She was right. He'd never looked at her like that. But he had started too after that. And he was looking now. There was a little piece of him that regretted being blind before this moment. And knew he'd never be able now to take back what this was. What it would be. What it could be. That bridge had burned. He was going to show her there was more to life than Leon Kennedy.

Kennedy was an idiot. Always had been. Chasing some piece of ass that would chew him up, spit him out, and never bat an eye. Let him chase that bitch. Chris was happy to step in and steal his woman while he did.

Rebecca shivered in his grasp, feeling her mouth throb with the pleasure of the fucking he'd given it moments before. That was just his mouth. His MOUTH on her mouth. She was enthralled and sorta afraid of what the rest would be like. And the revenge had a sweet and murderous edge because she desperately wanted to play with fire and find out.

Chris wrapped that gloved hand around her throat, delicate, but nearly impossibly erotically charged. He made it clear he could hold her there if either of them wanted. He made it clear he owned her. The possession of it thrilled her blood until she thought might turn into a puddle of want and need. His other hand slipped into her pants and covered her mound, rubbing at her through her panties, "Is this what you want?"

Rebecca shivered, gasping. And they both knew, right in that moment, that he'd been good on his promise. She wasn't thinking of Leon Kennedy. She was only thinking of him.

She grabbed the St. Christopher medal dangling on his chest and jerked him into her. "Yeah," She whispered, "It's what I want."

The world went red, black, and ran with blood and want. She gasped, bowed, and he fingered her over her panties until they grew damp and desperate. Something in her told her she was risking everything, risking it all, to get revenge. She couldn't care, didn't care, she wanted to feel anything, anything, but the seething well of resentment and hatred and pain that pulsed inside her belly at what she knew was happening not far away.

He didn't let her feel the pain of that betrayal for too long. He held her against the wall with that hand around her throat, just hard enough to prove he could keep her there forever. His other hand shifted into her panties and drove his fingers mercilessly into her body. It was so unexpected that she could do nothing but let the crude pleasure of it rocket into her and obliterate her.

She screamed, grasping at his forearm where it held her down. The other hand grabbed his wrist where it worked her body below. Her legs turned to jello, shivering and shaking from it. She was afraid she was going to fall down as he used only five fingers to drive the demons out of her body and leave a red, pulsing, burning need behind. He fucked her with his hand so relentlessly, so roughly that she was almost taken off her feet with each surge of him inside of her body. But he didn't give her a chance to steady, he held her against the wall with that hand on her throat and ruthlessly pushed her toward the edge of everything.

"You want to come?" His voice, low, so deep it nearly hurt the ears.

"Yes!"

"Not yet." That merciless hand retreated from her panties, leaving her gasping and twitching on the edge of an orgasm. He grabbed the front of her shirt in his fist, jerked her away from the wall and carelessly tossed her onto the bed beside them.

She bounced, gasping. Her hands tried to shoot down between her legs to touch herself as the pounding, desperate wave of want nearly killed her. He knocked her hands away, gently but firmly as he climbed on the bed, rising over her like a muscled devil there to call her soul from her flesh and fuck it raw, "No."

She made some sound in her throat that was nearly pleading.

If he was the devil, whatever deal he offered, she'd take it. She'd have sold her soul in that moment for what he offered. I can't erase him, he'd said. But apparently he was going to try to fuck the memory of him out of her. Rebecca trembled, desperate for the idea of it.

He jerked her shirt over her head, tossing it away. The bra beneath, simple and white, he simply pushed up to bunch under her arm pits. He set his teeth to her and it wasn't gentle. He tried to see how much breast he could get inside his mouth in a single bite.

Rebecca was keening in her throat now, her hands grabbed the back of his head to hold him to her? To push him away? His mouth let go of her breast with a wet popping sound. The breast was pink, edged raw with the start of a hickey. Satisfied that he'd marked her, he switched to the other with a grunt of approval. He was softer this time, smoother. This breast he worshiped, sucking and nipping, biting and playing. The contrast in it robbed the last of her brain from her head and shot it straight out of her ass.

I'd have ruined you for all other men, he'd joked that day. She'd laughed. She shouldn't have laughed. It was arrogance, yes, and he was a pompous ass for it. But he wasn't a liar. He'd have ruined her for all other men.

He drew back to look at her in the moonlight. The shadow of him covered her completely. His hands pulled her panties off her and she bicycled her legs excitedly to help. He chuckled a little, amused at her desperation.

For Chris, sex was just another need. Like breathing, or eating, or working out. It was something the body needed to function. He'd never really attached much thought to Rebecca in terms of sex. He tended to look at the bustier, taller, more obvious female stereotypes.

He was looking now though. She was small, delicate; her curves were subtle and refined. But her hips flared beautifully, her legs were perfect and curvy, her breasts were perky and surprisingly full over the concave promise of her belly. She was beautiful and the fact that it wasn't in an obvious way, made it all the better.

I need you to see me, she'd said. He was seeing her. And he was enjoying the hell out of the show.

He pushed a finger into her body, watched that pretty little face go red with want and need. His thumb cupped at the moist slit of her, circling her clit while he slid his finger in and out of her. She was so small inside, so warm and tight. He knew he'd have to open her, have to ready her for him.

Chris grabbed her behind her knees and drove her legs back. He put each of her hands under them and didn't wait, didn't offer anything else but to drop in front of her and add his mouth to his fingers. She made some sound of desperate pleasure. His finger slid out of her, fighting against the hungry pull of her body. Small or not, she was a greedy, sucking, desperate little thing. Her body wanted a good fucking.

He spread his hand over her belly and groin while she lay there, holding herself open for him. His mouth was merciless, as his kiss had been. This was no gentle ascent, this was a siege. He sucked the apex of her body into his mouth, rolling the bud of her begging clit first between his teeth and then against his relentless tongue. She nearly came right there, right on the spot, but he shoved two fingers into her body and she was pretty sure she died instead.

His tongue joined his fingers, thrusting, delving and diving into her with a maddening abandon. He held her down on the bed with his hand spread on her body, his other hand forced her hips to roll into a rhythm of rise and fall. She held on until the pleasure was simply so deep, so big, and so wide that there seemed to be no end and nope for anything but drowning alive in it. Her legs collapsed and trapped his hand between her thighs, he leaned over her and gave the taste of her body back to her with his questing tongue.

That was it. That was all it took. She crested, gasping, her hands grasping at him nearly desperately. She cried her release into his mouth as it poured over her flesh in a hot, nearly scalding, wave. She humped her hips continuously against his hand as the orgasm buried its teeth into her and shook her around like a dog with a bone.

He leaned back, rising over her again as the shuddering eased back into trembling. She wondered if she'd ever know again the feeling that came with seeing him like that, poised above her all muscle and strength and lust. She lifted a hand and rubbed it over his chest, ran it down the corrugated planes of his stomach, dipped into the wonderful mystery of his navel. His happy trail was impossibly soft to the touch.

Rebecca rose a little, lifting her upper half off the bed; her hands found his zipper and jerked. She should have known he would be wearing anything under the pants. Under wear was probably just a nuisance for a guy like Chris Redfield. There was a delicious nest of curly, springy hair for her fingers to play with when the zipper was down. She swirled her fingers through it and gave just a tug, just a bit, but it was enough to flare his eyes open with excitement.

She was pretty sure she was going to die before this was over. It was ok. She was soooo ready to go.

He grabbed her bra and pulled it up over her head, it lingered behind her back, binding her arms there for a long moment. He cupped the side of her face and drew her up to him. He kissed her with his eyes open, watching her face. He had her bowed back, her spine a perfect curve. It offered her breasts to him almost obscenely, deliciously. He licked them, pushing her bound hands up against her back to drive her further into his mouth.

She mewled, undone. He skimmed his hand down her little belly as he set his teeth into her breast and bit down. It wasn't gentle, it was almost too rough. She screamed again and he thrust his knee between her legs, forcing the wetness of her down on the roughness of his pants. She gasped, struggling a little at the place he was trying to take her. Surely he wasn't going to—and then he did, he sucked so hard on her breast that the blood rushed to the surface of her skin to meet the demand of it. He rubbed his knee against her wet mound, pulled her tortured and pulsing breasts against the hardness of his chest, and drove his tongue into her mouth.

He rubbed her over his knee, rubbed her body against the gruff texture of those fatigues he wore. One hand held her arms firmly behind her, a captive to his whim. The other grabbed her around the hips and forced her body to ride him, just like that, to just ride his knee while he tongue fucked her mouth. Whatever sound she was making, it couldn't be human. It was desperate and maddened and dying.

She was on the edge of an orgasm when he jerked his mouth off hers with a wet slap of releasing pressure. He dropped her back to the bed. She slid down his knee in a wet, gasping, shuddering heap.

She shivered, trapped by his eyes, they were open as he dropped his head and dipped his tongue into her mouth. It wasn't a kiss so much as a raw taste of her. He brushed her tongue with his, swirled them together in her mouth, and then sealed their mouths together with the perfect amount of pressure. He kept her in place with just his eyes. They wouldn't let her look away. He forced her to see the pleasure he was shoving like a sword into her body.

Rebecca made some sound in her throat, trapped in that long, long look. His hand slipped between her legs and very, very slowly tortured her. Again, the contrast moved her. The duality was addictive; forceful, desperate and then sweet and slow. He wouldn't let her look away, forcing her to hold his gaze while he pushed her up the wall of her own need. She couldn't think of anything she'd rather see in just this moment then his face while he took her.

Her hands scrambled, grabbed his biceps and then a fistful of muscle on his back. He took the other one and slid it down his body, guiding it into the open mouth of his pants. She eagerly sought the length of him. She tugged again on his groin hair just to watch his face while she did it. He grunted with pure pleasure.

She shivered. The eager length of him was thick and wide. She could barely close her fingers around him. A dirty little smile bloomed on his mouth at the flare of her eyes from the surprise of it. She hadn't expected him to be so…fat. The sheer girth of him brought her breath in a fearfully excited pant.

"Want to back out?" His voice was gruff and teasing but she knew he'd do it. He'd let her back out. He was, underneath it all, a boyscout. A dirty, filthy, probably fucked like a cowboy riding rodeo, she'd walk bowlegged for a week…boyscout.

"Are you kidding?" To prove it, she jerked his pants down his hips. When that wasn't enough she pushed him to his back on the bed. Small, delicate, she looked like a sexy tinkerbell in the moonlight as she turned around to unlace his boots. Of course, she couldn't possibly know what that sight was like. Her delicious little bottom waved like a red flag to a bull in his face while pulled his boots off and tossed them to the floor. He let her work, watching that ass tease him without even trying. A sexy little tinkerbell with a perfect little bubble butt. The sight of her made him feel like a man who'd been starving for something he hadn't even known he wanted so much.

She tugged his pants off his feet and tossed them to the floor. That was it, that was all he could wait for. She started to turn around to face him and he lifted his upper body off the bed. He caught her taunting hips in his hands and pulled her back against his face. It was so dirty, so terribly dirty, that it brought a cry from her mouth as he feasted on the creamy wetness of her. He lapped at her juices and sweet taste of that perfect little ass of hers.

Someone was making a high gasping keen. As soon as she realized it was her, she shifted herself and dropped her mouth to him. She gathered the girth of him in her hand, cupping the rest of him to roll the delicate softness of his sack between her fingers as she licked at the tip of him. She tasted the saltiness of his body and opened her mouth wide to slide him inside. She drove her mouth down on him so fast and deep, she was afraid she was going to choke herself. But she couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, and it was the first time since they started that he actually began to make uncontrollable sounds.

He sucked at her pouting lips and then bit down, fierce and hungry, into the left cheek of her ass. She cried out around his cock which sent vibrations straight from his dick to his stomach. Her forced her hips back against his mouth as he tongued her, drowning in the scent and taste of her excitement. Her mouth drove down on him completely and he hit the back of her throat.

She gagged, just a little, and the feeling of her throat clasping and clenching at him raped the first cry she'd heard from him. The power that speared into her from that one little sound made her head spin. Her hands slid under his muscled ass and lifted him to her face until she had to pull off him to draw a ragged breath.

He was sweaty now and panting, just like her, just like she was. The victory of bringing him with her into the madness of the moment made her laugh, darkly. Chris sat up, grabbing her around the waist and flipped her to her back on the bed with a great deal of force.

She bounced, moaning. He caught her hands and drew them above her head and straddled her hips. He rubbed his very wet dick against her belly, torturing them both. His hands slid down her arms, over her soft arm pits, and brushed the sides of her breasts. She shivered and he rocked the feel of him against her belly again.

She grabbed the length of him in her fist, jerking him gently as he rocked. He palmed both of her breasts now, rolling them in his hands and torturing her. The gruff roughness increased and he mashed them now, nearly hurting her. It smashed the pain and pleasure centers in her body together and brought a hungry moan from her mouth.

She'd wanted to forget. It had worked like a charm. She could remember nothing now but how he made her feel, "Give me more."

Enough games, he thought, he'd give her more.

He collapsed down on her, bracketed her head in a push up motion. She locked her legs around his, sliding her feet down his calves. He dipped his head and kissed her, shifted his body a little, and rubbed himself of the moist, wet, willing heat of her. His hand fingered her, working her, opening her. She realized, maybe a little too late, he was preparing her for him. Such a rough, demanding, soul stealing lover…and that simple thoughtfulness touched her. Rough or not, he didn't want to hurt her. Not like that.

He shifted himself against her and put himself against her body, rubbing. Rebecca grabbed his face now and kissed him. She licked his mouth, slid her tongue into it, and nodded. She nodded to give him permission. She nodded to give them both permission. Once they went here, there was no going back.

He held her face in his hand and pushed against her body. She was very small. And her body resisted the invasion of him. One of her hands shot down between their bodies reflexively, landing on his groin to push against him. Voice thick, hoarse, and low he spoke softly, "You want me to stop?"

Her eyes opened slowly. She hadn't realized she'd been resisting him. His eyes were closed as he held himself perfectly still above her. Even now, even like this, he'd stop if she asked him to. He'd stop. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd hurt himself before he did that.

She felt the wet push of tears sting her eyes. Why hadn't she found him sooner? When she still whole? When she was still young and sweet and innocent? Before she'd handed her heart to a man who'd dropped kicked it off into the abyss. She couldn't give him her heart now. But she could give him this. She wanted to give them both this.

Rebecca pulled her hand away and slid it over his hip, pulling him tighter to her in answer.

He slipped farther into her, fighting the tightness of her body to possess her. She was so wet, so slick, and so tight he thought he'd probably want to stay in her until he died. Chris was pretty sure he was going to die from the need to hammer her into the bed. But he eased his way in, slow and torturing.

She made some sound of intense pain and pleasure combined. Big was big after all. She grabbed double handfuls of the muscle on his back, pulling a hiss from his mouth. Too big, her mind pleaded, too big. But her body opened for him, shivering at the delicious pain that slapped against the pleasure and merged. Her body slickened more for him, welcoming every pulsing inch of him.

He seated himself fully inside of her and vibrated there, breathing while she adjusted to it. He literally filled her up, there was nowhere else to go in her body. She was too full of him. He was too much for her. She started to ask him to pull out, to stop…and he pulsed inside of her. The thick, meaty, claiming piece of him inside of her throbbed…and she felt every pulse of it like he'd torn open her body and run himself right over the core of her pleasure. That was benefit of big fat dick, she mused, shuddering on the edge of an orgasm. It didn't leave anything to the imagination.

He was so very still atop her that she opened her eyes again to see his face. He was looking down at her, judging her reaction to him. Touched, she held his eyes and lifted her hands to hold his face. He looked so tortured above her. She knew it had to be killing him to hold still. "I thought steroids shrank your man parts." Her voice was hoarse and breathy. To prove she wanted him there, she rolled her hips. The eager girth of him rubbed around inside of her like a spike of instant pleasure. She brought a cry from her own throat for her efforts.

Chris shivered above her and rocked his body a little. They both made sounds of pleasure. He laughed a little, amused, even as the need in his cock was like a desperate, clawing thing. "No steroids." His voice was thick and low, "High protein, low fat diet…" He eased back, watching her face, her body let him go until just the tip was still in her. He swirled himself there and she shivered at the soreness that had begun, before should do more than begin to explore the feeling of it, he pushed into her again. She cried out from it, bowing beneath him even as her body sucked him in like the mouth of a whore, "…heavy…" He kissed her, killing them both with the slowness of it as he pulled out again, swirled his body at the tip of her and let the soreness begin to throb inside and then pushed himself back in, "…lifting and cardio."

Her nails drove into his ass, ripping a groan from his mouth. "How much can you dead lift?" Her voice was a gasping moan.

Chris nipped along her neck, bit at her shoulder and pulled out of her again, making her mouth release a mewling cat sound. He tested her now, and himself, he pushed into her a little harder. They both shuddered with it. "Almost four hundred pounds."

She made some sound and humped her body against his, forcing him harder into her. It drove a gasp of pain from her mouth. "Jesus. You're a beast."

He laughed a little, shivering with the strength alone it took to hold himself inside of her. "It's all about…your core…" He kissed her again, wet, tongues trading and twining together. He slid out and shoved back in, hard enough his balls slapped wetly against her. Her fucking body sucked him in so wetly and deeply he was sure he'd spill right there inside of her. He shivered with it, "All about…discipline…"

She grabbed his hips and pulled at him. "Fuck discipline. Give it to me."

Her creamy heat pulsed around him and the blend of pain and pleasure on her face as he slid out and rode back in, harder now deeper, nearly pushed him into an orgasm again. What a game they were playing, he thought wildly, one they would both win. Her body tried to reject him even as it sucked him deeper and tighter into her.

She drove her nails into his ass, hard; he felt the sting of broken skin. The wet heat of his blood against her hand was like a shark scenting food on the water. She was undone for him. "Please!"

Chris laughed, darkly, he shifted her, opening her legs around him and moving himself farther atop her. The angle would be deeper, harder, and sharper. He gave her a chance to say no. She grabbed his St. Christopher medal and arched her neck to tongue fuck his mouth. That was a yes if he'd ever had one. He did what she demanded and gave it to her. She'd asked for it after all.

The first hard, desperate thrust of him into her tore a cry from both of them. She scrambled her hands over him, trying to find something to hang on to. She pushed against his chest involuntarily as if to force him off of her. But her body closed around him like a wet fist, pulling him deeper. He shook his head, wanting more. He rose, pushed her legs back until she was open and ready for him. She shook her head, opened her mouth to say, "No, don't!" He didn't give her the chance. He shoved himself into her so hard that it echoed like a wet meaty slap when their bodies struck together.

The sound she made was part pain, part shocked pleasure. He ground himself inside of her, ground himself against her cervix until she struggled against the feel of it, shoving at his chest. But at the same point where the pain was too much, too raw, the tilt of his hips brushed over that spot deep inside of her body that was nothing but pleasure. He grabbed her pushing hands in one of his and forced them back against her chest between her breasts, holding her down. His other hand jerked at her right hip, seating her down hard against his him until his balls brushed against her ass.

The angle was nearly too painful. She started to say something and he drove himself into her again. This time he didn't stop. He did what he said he'd do, he gave it to her. She couldn't yell anything but gibberish. The pain and the pleasure smashed into each other and became one living, breathing, organic thing. That was the thing about a big, thick dick, it knew just how to find that spot and fuck it until you gave in, gave up, and shattered from the orgasm. He drove her into the mattress with the desperate pounding greed of it. He was as good as his word, she didn't think of anything but him.

She ended up with her legs draped over his arms, doubled up on herself like a human pretzel as he forced himself into her so hard, so fast and deep, she knew she'd be bleeding from it when it was over. There was no way her body would survive such a brutal assault without wounds. She craved those wounds like a starving thing. Her hands grabbed at his face, held on to him as he smashed pleasure into her like a weapon. She came around his pounding dick, screaming, bucking and he rode her right through it.

He rolled to his back and pulled her over him. And it was too sharp, too deep. She shook her head, whispered, "I can't—," and he jerked her down on him, splitting her in half with the raging greed of it. He lifted her and set her down on him, lifted her and set her down, his biceps bulged with it. He panted, desperate, and she thought she'd never seen anything more beautiful then all that strength beneath her.

She grabbed his arms, gasping. He rose to sitting position, dumping her into his lap. The angle eased back, only pleasure now. He was deep inside of her, pressing against her G-spot. He simply rocked her there, pleasing them both.

Rebecca grabbed his face, held him there. They were both soaked in sweat, breathing so heavily she thought they'd melt into each other and turn into a puddle. Her thumbs traced beside his ears, her fingers kneaded at the sides of his neck.

His hands slid up her back and settled at her shoulders, holding her tight against him while he rocked. Her legs wrapped around his hips and back like an snake. The moonlight spilled across her face and the sweaty fall of her dark hair.

Something shifted in him a little at the sight of her. Look at me, she'd said. He was looking. For the first time in his whole life, he was really looking at a woman. The surprise of it spilled out of his mouth in a moan for her. She coveted it, that tiny sound, he was such a silent lover. When she raped a noise from him, she felt like a champion.

He went still against her. The hands on her shoulders shifted a little to cup her face. Her eyes flickered open, the eye lids hooded and drooping with pleasure. A bead of sweat slid down her nose and dripped off. She looked down at his face and froze.

There was something there, something real on his face for her. She didn't know what to feel about it. It was twenty years too late for him to look at her like that…wasn't it? But a part of her craved that look on his face. Even if another part grieved that she'd never seen that look on another face.

He moved in toward her and it was different, it felt different this time, it felt hesitant and unsure. The writhing, rolling, gut wrenching pound of pleasure he'd forced thorough her moments before blended and fell victim to the smooth threat of something else, something sweet. Help me forget about him, she'd pleaded.

Maybe this was what she'd meant all along. The idea of what that meant, scared her to death. She didn't know if she'd survive another man she couldn't have.

So she denied that questioning softness he offered, afraid of what it might mean to take it from him. And she lifted her hips and drove herself down on him. The mood broke, fell apart, and came back together in a blistering fog of need.

He shifted her around him and slapped their sweaty bodies together.

The door to the hotel room opened and Leon entered, dumping the tiny recorder and the memory stick in his hands on the table where Joel sat. Joel was watching him with too wide eyes. Jill was leaning on the counter, sipping a bottle of water. They were both very, very quiet.

He shifted, lifting a brow, "What?"

Jill eyed him, narrowly. "I think you went outside of your paygrade there, Agent Kennedy. You certainly know how to go above and beyond for the call of duty."

Joel continued to stare at him, transfixed.

Leon felt the first lick of shame in his belly. "I had to. We needed that intel."

Jill lifted a brow. "You had to?"

"I had to."

Joel coughed, uncomfortable.

"Was she as good as she looked?"

He met Jill's look squarely. "Where's Rebecca?"

When he'd finished. When Ada'd finished. When he'd lain there, replete and panting, he'd touched the com in his ear and found static. He'd panicked, rising from the bed.

The bitch in red was gone, of course. And the two pieces of intel were, as promised, lying on the bed where she'd been. Leon had never felt dirtier, never felt seedier, and never felt worse than the moment he'd picked them up.

Until Rebecca hadn't answered him.

Joel stared at him blankly, flinching around the eyes. Jill sipped the water, pursing her lips. Leon ground his teeth a little, annoyed, "Where…is….Rebecca?"

Jill gave him a very pointed look.

The noises followed the pointed silence. It sounded like someone was being tortured in the bedroom. He froze, his brain froze, and listened harder. Not tortured. Someone was keening high and loud.

He turned and started moving. He wasn't even aware he was doing it.

He turned the knob, he pushed the door, and light spilled into the bedroom.

There's a feeling that happens when the heart feels its first stab of betrayal. It burns, blistering the skin as it strikes, puncturing a piece of each chamber within the organ that it seeks to destroy. It's not a quick death, no, it's a slow destruction. It rots you from the inside, claiming each piece of your soul one necrotic bite at a time.

She was on his lap, wrapped around him, cradled against him while he pushed his way inside of her. They were wrapped around each other like two pieces of the same puzzle, perfectly fitted and formed into a full picture. He wondered later, if he'd ever remember anything about those first few moments when he saw them but that pain.

It felt like someone had stabbed him in the fucking chest, left the knife in, and twisted it.

It was Chris that saw him first and that look, that look, it would likely haunt him the rest of his life. He looked over her sweaty shoulder; two sets of blue eyes locked and held. And Chris did something to her, shifted, pulled her against him and sent her over the edge.

She bucked and trembled, letting out a gasping shout as she came, shuddering and clutching him to her. Chris held her, shivering, and lifted his brow at the man who stood there, broken, in the doorway. Help me forget about him, she'd begged. He'd been as good as his word. She didn't know anything but the man inside her.

Leon was enough of a man to feel the roaring rage of jealousy. He was enough of a man to feel the backhanded slap of surprising sexual interest. If it hadn't been Rebecca, the sight of two people so completely into each other, fucking like desperate teenagers would have turned him on. He was a man after all and the visual excited him. But the pain stole his breath and left him numb.

The look on Chris' face wasn't numb. The look on his face was bright, eager, and Leon could see it there as well: an evil almost gleeful joy at the pain he was causing the other man. Only one thing could make a man enjoy hurting another that way: love.

In that moment, he knew that they both loved the same woman.

Rebecca leaned back, trembling…and she saw the spill of light across the floor. Her head turned, slow motion.

The human heart is a fragile thing, it beats and breaks so easily, so simply. It can be still, stopped, and bring life to an end in a handful of torturous seconds. She'd wanted to revenge…the look on his face said she'd gotten it.

But the victory rang hollow and painful around them.

Leon held her eyes for a long moment…and then quietly closed the door on them. Jill watched him, steady and empty. Joel had nothing but stamped sympathy across his face. He looked vaguely ill.

He took two steps and then a third. At the door to the hotel room, Jill's voice stopped him and nearly killed him, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He opened the door and walked out.

In the bedroom, Rebecca was so still where he held her. Chris shifted, drawing her attention to him. Sweaty, sticky, they locked eyes.

Chris knew two things: he was glad he'd helped her forget about that fool. Any man that walked in and saw his woman wrapped around another man, said nothing, and walked away…was a coward and a fool. And it was unlikely she was going to feel the same way.

He expected her climb off of him and chase after that skinny wimp.

She didn't. She curled around him, put her face into his neck, and fell apart. Undone, Chris gathered her close and held her. It was a strange feeling to comfort a woman he'd just finished fucking like a champion porn star. Especially when the comfort came in regards to another man.

Rebecca wept copiously, completely. She wept like she fucked, giving it everything she had. He rolled her to her back and ranged himself atop her, brushing the tears from her cheeks with this thumbs.

"Don't. Please. He's not worth it."

Rebecca hiccupped, sobbing, and put her hand in front of her face to hide. "I'm sorry," She choked it out, even as he took the hand from in front of her face and kissed her fingers, "You probably think I'm insane."

Chris laughed a little, charmed by her. "Not at all. I think you're the most incredible thing I've ever seen."

She laughed through her sobs and opened her teary eyes. "That's ridiculous."

He held cupped her cheek in his hand, "Is it? Rebecca, I never saw you before. You were right about that. I'm seeing you now."

He skimmed his fingers over her mouth, used a knuckle to shift away a tear. "I know you love him. And chances are he knows it too. But I gotta ask you, how long do you think you could sit there waiting for him to love you back? You're wasting yourself on him."

She hiccupped, her crying tapering off into sniffles. There it was again, that look on his face. She didn't move; a deer in the headlights. "I think you need to decide what's enough, Rebecca. What's enough? If he's enough to make you happy, then go after him."

Her voice came, soft and desperate, "And what if its not enough?"

"Then maybe you need to find someone who is."

Leon had spent so long trying to run from her. She stared at Chris Redfield, the boy who'd become the man, who'd asked for nothing but the chance to take away her pain. And she took another risk, "You offering?"

He studied her face, "I don't know. That depends on you."

She opened her mouth to say something and realized a hard truth: all that they'd done, everything that echoed in this room around them, and he'd never gone. He'd never gotten his release. He had, entirely, made the night about her.

That selflessness moved her in ways she couldn't even begin to explain. It was a karmic turn of the wheel.

Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it wasn't what she'd thought she'd find with Leon. Maybe it was something else entirely. And maybe it could be so much more if she let it.

"I think I may be in trouble here." She said it quietly, "Why couldn't you have just let it stay easy? Why did you have to make it so hard?"

He blinked and then he laughed, just a little, "I think you're the one who made it hard."

Rebecca felt the laugh bubble up from the tears. "That's really dirty. And pretty crude."

"I kinda think you like dirty and crude."

She met his eyes and held them, breathing slowly. What the fuck, she thought, what else could she possibly lose? She didn't have two hearts to give. But she could give him her. For however long it lasted.

"You didn't go."

He was breathing slow, steady, "No."

"Do you want to?"

"Not yet," He knuckled away another tear that fell, "Tell me what you want, Rebecca."

She gave him the truth, the only one she had, "I want Leon to love me. I want to be enough for him. I want to have him look at me…the way you're looking at me now."

Chris nodded, sympathy was written across his face. Jesus he was fucking perfect. He was literally fucking perfect.

"And I want you." It surprised her to find it was true, utterly and completely true, "I don't know if I can just go back to being your friend after this. Is that crazy? Do you think it's possible to love one man and desperately want another?"

The second she asked it, she knew it was. Of course it was. Wasn't Leon involved in the same conundrum? In that one finite moment, she finally understood what he'd be struggling with for twenty years. She could finally understand his obsession with Ada Wong.

Chris watched her and felt that shift again inside of him. This was going to end badly for all of them, make no mistake about that. "I think we're human. And trying to make sense out of nerves and brains and hearts and loins and emotions is like dancing about architecture…it just doesn't make sense. If you want to go back to being friends, I will give you that. If you want to keep fucking me to get back at him, I will give you that too. I will give you whatever you want because I'm in. I'm so in it's insane. What happened here, revenge or not, was probably the most incredible sex I've ever had. I'm a man, that alone is enough to keep him coming back for more."

Rebecca studied his face, and the soreness in her body told her she was in too. She was in too deep. She was in over her head. And wanted to be again.

And again.

"Shit."

He skimmed his fingers over the damp, springy, tingling mound of her sex causing them both to shiver with it. "Yeah…that about sums it up. You want to chase after him?"

She slid her fingers over his damp hair, traced the line of his mouth. "Yes…and no. What are you doing to me?"

He delved a finger beneath that springy hair, finding her moist and creamy. He traced the cleft of her, bringing her mouth open in a shuddering gasp. "I think I'm seducing you. Or you're seducing me. Fuck. I don't give a shit either way."

The tears sprang back into her eyes, "You don't care that I'm in love with him?"

He rolled on top of her and shoved into her, smooth and fast. The creamy heat of her closed around him, pulling a soft cry from her mouth. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

What was it about her crying that was turning him on?

He put his lips against hers, taking her sob into mouth, "I promised you I'd make you forget about him. I meant it. Tell me what you want, Rebecca."

She looked up into his face, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and rocked his hips against her. Her eyes crossed, her mouth opened on a gasp.

"I want to make you come for me."

He grabbed her hips, swirled her body in a slow circle, the soreness inside of her sent electric shocks of pleasure into her gut. He put his mouth against hers and whispered, "Prove it."

....

**Author's Note:**

> There ya go. Dirty dirty.  
> Smutty slutty lovin.  
> Awesome or total crappola. Good stuff.


End file.
